


Sweet Burn

by veiledndarkness



Category: The Covenant
Genre: M/M, Slash, semi-public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-12
Updated: 2010-03-12
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veiledndarkness/pseuds/veiledndarkness





	Sweet Burn

Title: Sweet Burn  
Author: [](https://veiledndarkness.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://veiledndarkness.livejournal.com/)**veiledndarkness**  
Fandom: The Covenant  
Pairing/Characters: Pogue/Tyler  
Rating: Hard R  
Warnings: Semi-public, slash  
Prompt: “Like a bitch in heat”  
Kink: Frottage/Friction

Written for Round 14 at [](https://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**rounds_of_kink**](https://rounds-of-kink.livejournal.com/)

X

An itch, a burning need, his thighs press together and he clamps his lips shut, a moan trapped in his throat. He's embarrassed, feels the damned heat building in his cheeks and there's a hint of knowledge in Pogue's eyes, a challenge, a tease and Tyler _knows_ that Pogue can probably smell the arousal that wafts off him.

And if he knows, he says nothing. Tyler chafes at the amusement on Pogue's face, his stomach rolling and dropping when the air carries the faintest scent of that smell that is Pogue and brushes it teasingly under his nose. He's half hard at a mere glance, his boxers too tight and straining when Pogue's fingers brush over his in innocent ways.

Pool stick in hand, half hunched over the table, desire flooding him and leaving slick spots in his shorts, Tyler struggles to pay attention to the game. He can hear annoyed huffs of air from Reid as he stalls his move, can feel the probing glances of Caleb and under that, under that is the slow heat, slow burn of Pogue standing across from him, his eyes gleaming, a slightly cocky grin curving his lips up, his fingers sliding an inch or so up and down his pool cue, eyes locked on Tyler's.

A flash of black and Tyler lets out a feeble moan, an unseen pressure rubbing against him, between his legs. He grits his teeth, the pressure too light to get him off, too firm to stop him from shuddering, his stomach tense and his cock straining desperately against its confines.

Tyler waves off Caleb's concerns and all but flees the pool table, weaving his way through the crowded floor, his heart beating too fast. The bathroom door closes behind him and Tyler leans against the sink, breathing hard. He tenses, the door opening and closing with a silence that sends shivers down his spine. His cock twitches and Tyler bites his lip. That scent, that hint of leather, sweat and overwhelming smell of _Pogue_ floods his nose.

He watches Pogue in the mirror over the sink, trapped, his fingers gripping the porcelain, legs shaking. Pogue smiles, almost a smirk, predatory and lustful. His eyes flash black and the door locks behind him as he slips behind Tyler. He leans in, invading his space, his lips ghosting over Tyler's neck.

Tyler sways, entranced. The pressure is back, harder than before, delicious pressure that makes him rock back and forth on his heels, his breath catching. Pogue slides his hands over Tyler's hips, trapping him in place and pressing against him, his arousal evident. Tyler blushes hard, his lips parted as he watches Pogue's tongue trace his ear.

_Trapped_, he thinks absently, unable to move, Tyler moans, the pressure rubbing over his clothed cock, his shorts damp and sticking to his skin, desire coiling tighter in his belly. Trembling, he feels the pressure quicken and he cries out, rocking hard and fast despite the grip on him.

Sweat trickles down his temples, his heart beat roaring in his ears, Tyler clings to the sink, panting hard, rutting like a bitch in heat against Pogue, against the unseen pressure, desperate to come.

A slow burn builds from his feet up and Tyler sobs out a moan, Pogue rubbing against him, his lips trailing over his neck. Tyler whimpers, panting in Pogue's grip and the flash of black sends him hurtling over the edge, the invisible pressure rubbing him just right and he comes, hot and hard and so _good_ in his shorts, moaning and rutting still.

Pogue breathes Tyler's name, his own hips shuddering to an end, possessive hands sliding up to grip Tyler's chin, tilting him back for a heated kiss as someone hammers on the bathroom door, cursing when the door refuses to budge.

Tyler exhales, weak kneed and trembling all the more. “Fucker,” he pants, attempting to glare at the older boy.

“You loved it, baby boy."

X


End file.
